


warmth

by volke (shuukei)



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 11:43:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5784103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuukei/pseuds/volke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Geoffrey smiles.</p><p>So does Volke, in his own way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	warmth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hhavenh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hhavenh/gifts).



> AAAAH HAVEN IM SORRY IM SO LATE! i've been caught up with school and similar nonsense, so i haven't really gotten the time to work on it but i hope you enjoy regardless!
> 
> fluff isn't really my strong suit but i love geoffrey/volke all the same ; v ; !
> 
> \- shuusei (shuukishima/shuukei)

 

In all technicalities, Volke shouldn’t  _ really _ be on the battlefield, but since when has he ever actually listened to someone if money wasn’t involved. Thus so, he’s currently perched on the back of Geoffrey’s horse, surveying the battlefield. His hand is pressed delicately to the left of his abdomen, keeping pressure on the stab wound. 

He’s not defenseless - he’d rather pull his wound rather than have someone else defend him, but it’s for Geoffrey’s sake more than his. He’s far too worried about the assassin’s safety, but he’s kept the surplus of his knives with him, and he’s far from helpless. 

He flicks the fingers on his other hand lightly, a knife finding its way into his palm. With a slight glance to the side, he twists his wrist to send the knife flying into the throat of an enemy soldier. That’s really he’s been trying to tell Geoffrey - even injured, he’s not defenseless, though the knight won’t hear the end of it.

With a sigh, he huffs, and Geoffrey slows to a stop.

“Is something the matter?” he asks, and his eyes are wide in concern, which makes Volke want to roll his own.

“I’m going to find Bastian,” Volke replies, and without waiting for a reply, he slides off the horse and disappears into the battlefield.

He ducks behind a few soldiers, staying out of their line of sight. He can see fiery explosions in the distance, and the occasional strike of lightning, so he quickly makes his way over there. He loves Geoffrey, but when it comes to the battlefield - there’s no one that knows him as well as Bastian. After years of working together, it was a given.

After that, it’s a bit of a blur. He may or may not pull his wound - well, he’s fighting, so. There’s no time to worry about individual injures in the midst of war, and he’s making money for this, so he might as well take part in battle. He hates being dead weight, and he’d rather busy himself than sit in camp recuperating.

The battle lasts embarrassingly short, maybe because it’s inevitable with a blessed Ike on their side, but he finds himself resting in his tent with his shirt off. He’s working on rebandaging himself. The wound in his stomach hasn’t opened up again, but he figures it’s better to be safe than sorry. 

The opening shifts and he glances up, fingers tucked into the edge of the bandage as he fastens the bindings together. Geoffrey stands, a plate of food in his hand as he enters. He puts the plate down in front of the assassin, before drifting down to sit next to him and ghost a hand on his lower back. Volke doesn’t spare him another glance, just huffing and moving to eat the food.

“I was going to be fine,” the dark haired man mumbles, running a hand through his hair as he eats. “You don’t have to worry so much.”

Geoffrey lets out a quiet huff, a smile rising on his face. “I know you can handle yourself, but I still worry.” He leans over and presses a light kiss to the other’s cheek, wrapping his arm around the thief’s waist. “I love you, so of course I’m going to worry.”

Volke grumbles, looking away and trying not to flush. Geoffrey’s sincerity can be so overwhelming sometimes, it’s so … embarrassing. But - he also guesses it can be endearing, sometimes, and he quietly leans in against Geoffrey’s side.

“I guess,” he mumbles, finishing off the last bit of the food and placing the plate to the side. If they break it, they’ll get a mouthful from Mist and Oscar, and it’ll come out of his pay, which he’s not quite willing to let go of. But - he lets out a soft breath, closing his eyes and resting his head on Geoffrey’s shoulder.

Geoffrey hums, lightly. “It’s the final battle tomorrow. What are you going to do after?”

He scoffs in return. “Go back to work. What else? My job will be finished, and I’ll have to take another one. I believe Bastian had something he wanted me to look into, but I suppose it depends who gets to me first.”

The knight tilts his head thoughtfully. “You should take the one from Bastian. That means you’ll be home more often, right? I’ll miss you otherwise.”

Volke shoves Geoffrey away, slightly, an embarrassed look edging into his demeanor. “Don’t be so sappy.”

At least Geoffrey has the decency to look sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, alright.”

A moment passes between them, silent and thoughtful, though the air is anything but tense or uncomfortable. It’s comforting, something that they’re both used to, after long days at court or a tedious job finished. It’s the silence of each other’s company, the warmth shared between them, the palpable love and affection. It’s - them. Wholeheartedly them.

“... Maybe I will take that job from Bastian.”

Geoffrey smiles.

So does Volke, in his own way.


End file.
